The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1887-03-24

over the kitchen. and wants you ia
show him the hay-mow. He said he
had been . sailor, and couldn't sleep
in bed. And to hear him singing
that hymn after your
Mr.: Seymour started at her words,
and walked the floor. Then. remark
ing that. he would 60 and show him
his bed in the barn, he left the room.
His wife was wearied with the hou:
hold labors of the long summer day,
and retired to bed. Before her hus-
band returned she was sleeping sound
IT,:
There was no sleep for Wellington
Seymour on that ong-remembered
night. The face and the voice of the
tramp effectually drove slumber from
his pillow. wearied as he was. When
he showed him to his nest in the barn
he had asked his name, but the man
shook his head.
''Name'' he cried, what should l
want of a name? Names arc for people
who can honor them. 1 suppose 1 had
one, once; but 1 have pretty near for
gotten it."
The farmer walked the floor of the
sitting-room for an hour. trying to COM
pose himself. and to drive that face and
that voice from his mind. The effort
was useless, but it so added to his ex-
haustion that he hoped he might sleep.
The clock struck twelve, and, after
that, one; but Mr.. Seymour still lay
awake.
Exhausted in body and mind, he rose
and went out iuto the open air. There
was brilliant harvest-moon in the
heavens. and he saw from tho side
piazza a dark figure moving slowly
down the hillside back of the house
and across the fields. He watched the
movements of this figure, and was sur.
prised to see it advancing straight to-
| ward bis outbuildings. When the man
was hidden from sight behind the barn,
Mr.: Seymour cautiously darted out to
reconnoiter: He placed his hand on the
mans arm just as he was entering the
barn. 1t was the tramp.
''Wbat does this mean, STRIP he
sternly demanded.
Don't be alarmed" said the man.
I'm neither house-breaker nor barn.
burner, assure you. But-many years
ago used to know this neighborhood,
and l haven't seen it for thirty years. I
couldn't sleep wink to-nig ht and
started to rove around-for that's nv
disposition. I've been all over your
farm, and a fine place it is And see
you have a cemetery up there on the
hill. It's your first wife, take it, and
your two children who are buried
there.
YES"
'Then you've seen sorrow as well as
prosperity"
God knows I have!' Seymour an
swered, with great sob. my very
heart-strings were torn by the loss of
the three who fill those graves"
'Well. well; life is pretty much the
same sorrow everywhere Goodnight
and, for that matter, good-by. I shall
be out of your hay-mow and on the
road long before you are up" =
Mr.. Seymour's face showed great sur
prise, and not only surprise, but relief.
He eyed the man sharply for mo.
ment, and then thrust his hand into his
pocket.
Here is five dollars, he said. Take
it; you are welcome to it,
The tramp took the money. He
waited until the farmer was out of
sight, and then threw it down and
stamped on it, while something like an
oath broke from his lips. Presently he
grew calmer, picked up the money, and
put it in his pocket and clambered up
again to his bed in the hay.
Mr.. Seymour was still unable to
sleep. About daylight he heard the
click OF the gate-latch, and, peering
through the blinds of the open window.
he saw the tramp standing outside. He
stood there motionless for at least five
minutes. and appeared to be taking q
survey of the entire premises. Then
he turned and moved off down the
road.
A look of intense relief came to the
farmers tired face.
Il was foolish to be so disturbed"
he thought; merely an accidental re-
semblance." Then he lay down to
sleep; and when the breakfast bell
rang, an hour later, be was in a sound
slumber.
Wellington Seymour awakened, alto
his meal, and went out among the har-
vesters. like one who has escaped from
threatening peril, and who can hard
ly realize the fact of his escape. All
that had happened to him since the
previous evening seemed like an un-
pleasant dream. The men in the field
remarked that he was whole hour
late-something before unheard Of
and that he did not talk as usual. At
ten O'Clock DR.. Boards horse and bug
81 dashed up the road and halted op-
posite the field where they were all at
work. Mr.. Seymour went instantly
out to the road, with a premonition
that he was urgently wanted. 1t was
even so. The messenger told him that
at Oldfeld Crossing, an hour before, a
tramp had tried to. catch ride on
freight train; that he had fallen under
the wheels, and was now dying, with
both legs crushed: and that he had
begged the doctor to send at once for
Wellington Seymour, for he could not
die without Seeing him.
Mr.. Seymour waited not an instant;
not even to put on his coat, which he
had left back in the field. He took his
- L.